The Story of the Bubbles
by Scarabbug
Summary: Isn’t it ironic than such a simple thing as bubbles can make the difference between a Starfleet Officer and a piece of Scientific Experimental Property? Oneshot .


**Takes place sometime during early season six. This one is reasonably light-hearted (looking at such episodes as _"A Fistful of Data's"_ and _"The Naked Now"_, you have to wonder whether the tag of "parody" applies to _anything_ when it comes to The Star Trek Universe.) No space battles or huge disasters follow… unless you count the pride of the Federation in front of the Vulcan Embassy. Standard disclaimers apply, reviews and concrit are appreciated.**

* * *

The Story of the Bubbles.

_No bubble is so iridescent or floats longer  
than that blown by the successful teacher.  
- William Osler, 1848 – 1919_.

In short, it was turning out to be a weird morning.

The bubbles appearing in the corridors had been the first clue. And it didn't take a huge leap of Geordi's intuition, to go from coming in for his shift to find that the whole of Engineering –as ridiculous as it sounded and _boy_, did it sound ridiculous– had been filled with a cloud of soap liquid, to assuming that Data had had something to do with it.

…Okay, so maybe that wasn't fair on Data. It wasn't like he had a tendency to instigate chaos on board the _Enterprise_… Not regularly, anyway. (Confusion –yes. Chaos –no). The last few days, however, had been an interesting experience for everyone who shared a shift with their resident android, who had apparently formulated a new sub-file in order to study the behaviour of humanoid children at play, as a result of a suggestion made by Commander Riker.

Geordi had a few select words to say to the Commander about that. Most people didn't realise that when they told Data _anything_ about human habits and/or social patterns, Geordi was usually the first person who had to deal with the consequences.

'What the…'

'Geordi,' Data looked up from the central engineering table, not seeming at all concerned about the soap suds obscuring the panel. 'Please excuse the disorder. Are you here to begin your rotation?'

Geordi bit back the desire to snap: _'What the hell have you done to my warp engines?'_. '...I figured I was.'

Data paused, no doubt running some kind of internal schedule check. 'Your shift is not due to begin for thirty-eight minutes. Is something wrong?'

Geordi looked at Data disbelievingly. It seemed that whatever this phenomenon was, it had only just begun. The other engineers on duty were still gazing around, some in amusement, others in confusion, and with one or two of them who had been doing experiments hurrying to cover their equipment.

'I was about to ask you the same question.' Geordi waved a hand in front of his eyes. Soap liquid didn't get along with his VISOR's electromagnetic spectrum. Data's usual aura was peppered with pink and blue. 'Data, what the _heck_ is this?'

'They appear to be hollow, liquid-based globules, internally composed of a collection of air molecules and a permeable membrane through which gases—'

'I can see that much!' Geordi pressed. Data was really getting the hang of this "brief and to the point explanations" stuff, but when uncertain (and Data _did_ experience uncertainty, Geordi was sure of it) he had a tendency to revert back to his earlier information-overload mode. 'What I meant was _what_ are they doing in Engineering?!'

'Unclear. If I possessed an answer to that enquiry, they would not be _in_ Engineering.'

Geordi could feel his morning headache growing. Soap Bubbles. Lots of them. On top of everything else. ("everything else" being a crotchety nacelle, a potential infestation of Tribbles that had escaped from the schoolroom's Animal Corner and were probably getting into the Jeffery's tubes —Geordi would love to know who the hell on had thought it a good idea to let even _one_ of those things on board when they stopped over at Deep Space Nine— and two technicians for the next shift being off-duty as a result of plasma shocks they received in a holodeck with a mysteriously disengaged safety protocol). Not to mention that how warp engines might react to liquid soap wasn't the kind of thing that came up in the computer.

But what the heck. Whatever it was, he could deal with it, right?

'Oh-kay. So, you have _nothing_ to do with this?'

'It... is possible that I do,' Data said, after a hesitation. 'I have been experimenting with the effects of such phenomenon recently. This occurrence is not likely to be coincidental.'

'You've been experimenting with bubbles,' Geordi sighed. 'Data, will you please explain, in concise sentences, just how you managed to—'

_'Bridge to Engineering.'_ Geordi's communicator chime interrupted one perfectly reasonable question with another.

Uh-oh. '...La Forge here, Captain.'

_'Mr La Forge, far be it from me to question the unusual occurring on board this vessel,'_ The captain said, sounding worryingly calm in a "Romulans are attacking, shields are out, warp drive is down, and we want you to get us out of here before they blow us all to hell, but nobody panic –that's an order" kind of way. _'But I was wondering if you could tell me exactly_ why _my Bridge has been filled with soap liquid?_'

Geordi winced. 'I... That's a good question, captain. If I had an answer—'

_'Wait. On second thoughts, Mr La Forge, I don't need to know. You are working on venting them out?'_

Geordi looked at Data. 'Yes sir, but the vents might be full of them, too. We think it has something to do with… an experiment of some kind, using the replicators.'

_'…Alright.'_ This analysis seemed to surprise the Captain a lot less than it should have. _'Again, I likely don't want to know, do I?'_

'Probably not, sir,' Geordi admitted. 'We're working on it.'

_'Work faster, Mister La Forge. We are expected to greet the Ambassador's ship in less than forty minutes. I would like this mess cleared out before then.'_

Geordi was kind of impressed that the Captain managed to get through that command without a falter. '...Sure. I mean, yes, sir, we'll get right to it.'

_'Good. Picard out.'_

Geordi frowned as the connection cut to silence.

'I believe I have initiated quite an inconvenience,' Data said, watching bubbles drifting around the control ports, where an Ensign was trying in vain to continue working unfettered. 'It is not often that you show such hesitation while addressing the captain.'

'It's also not often that I find our ship has been converted into a giant bubble machine.' Geordi muttered. 'The hydroponics department is gonna want words with you.'

'They have already had them. Keiko is not pleased with the effect the soap has had on her experimental imported species. She does not believe that her Delvidian Moss "will ever be the same".' Data looked as close to gloomy as he ever came. 'At least the Captain does not seem as displeased as she was.'

'Yeah, well, he's the Captain of the _Enterprise_. He's used to it. Look, I'm all up for you exploring the human condition, but you were experimenting with _bubbles_?'

'Rather, the children were this morning. In the schoolroom.' Data explained. 'The Primary Tutor has acquired a toy which generates large quantities of bubbles. Many species have ascribed meanings to such phenomenon. Some believe them to be symbolic of the briefness of life. Others view them as a romantic symbol. To the Andorians. they represent supernatural disturbance. However it was the response of children that I found the most fascinating.'

'So you just decided to up and make bubbles appear all over the ship?!'

'It was not my intention that they appear _all over_ the ship, Geordi.' Data responded. Coming from anyone else, it would've sounded deadpan.

'Oh-kay,' Geordi shook his head. 'Still seems a little impulsive.'

'Is that not the nature of all children's play?' Data asked.

'Sure, but it also gets them sent to stand alone in corners with their faces to the wall, so they can think about what they did.' _And it probably gets overcurious members of Starfleet a lecture from their senior officer…Wonder if anyone ever sent Data to stand in a corner when he was a "child"?_

'At any rate, I was intrigued. When the robot was broken, I endeavoured to duplicate the effect on a larger scale via replicator. It was my intention that the experiment be confined to one location,' Data confessed. 'I agree with Captain Picard. They should be dispersed before we greet the ambassador.'

'Just what I was thinking,' Geordi tried not to sound sarcastic. He really did. 'Well. I guess this must be running along the replicator pathways, but that doesn't explain why they're popping up in areas without those. We're going to have to track down the source ourselves and… get the damn things popped already.'

* * *

'Well, this is new,' Guinan said, watching bubbles gathering on the pristine surface of Ten-Forward's bar. The El-Aurian had witnessed more than her fair share of strange sights since she'd come to serve aboard the _Enterprise_. This, however, was one of the strangest, and certainly one of the most fun. 'The children must be enjoying it.'

'Pleasant it may be,' Beverly frowned. 'But you've got to wonder what it's doing to the equipment.'

'Well, you could,' Guinan said, smiling. 'If you wanted to spend your free time wracking your nerves when you could be enjoying the bubbles.'

'There's a lot to wrack my nerves about. The last time I was in sickbay I had two people being treated for plasma shock, a teenager with a Bolian lung infection, a child having a broken arm fused, and a very distressed Tribble. Which will probably be six Tribbles by the time I get back. So here's hoping these things don't have any effect on the medical gear.'

If anything, the bubbles had given Beverly a reason to open her mouth. She'd been sitting silently at the bar for twenty minutes, and Guinan had decided it would be better to wait. As obvious as it sounded, the true knack to being a listener was in waiting for others to start talking first. 'Well, I'm not a physician, but I don't see what damage soap would do.'

Beverly looked around Ten Forward. The place was a hive of activity, as was usual at this hour due to people changing shifts and meeting friends and family, most of whom seemed to be enjoying the phenomenon of a bubble-filled _Enterprise_. More than Beverly was, at any rate.

'It's funny,' Guinan said. 'For once something unusual happens on this ship which _doesn't_ involve a disaster, and yet some people just can't let their guard down. You're a doctor –tell me, what happened to this crew's ability to relax?'

'I think it vanished the day we realised that even something as simple as bubbles could be out to get us,' Beverly smiled ironically, teasing the straw in her untouched drink. 'Does that make me sound cynical?'

'Perhaps a little. It's not like you to be so negative.'

'Hm, I know. Anyway, this isn't exactly a complicated metaphor.'

'And what metaphor is on your mind?' Guinan asked, casually.

'I'm not sure... Time, maybe.' Beverly shrugged. 'The fact that some people think human life –in terms of the universe, anyway– is as short as one of these bubbles and just as meaningless?'

'I'm sure neither of us thinks _that_.'

'No, of course not,' Beverly smiled as a bold Ensign (who had clearly opted for enjoying the phenomenon over worrying. _'Good for him,'_ Guinan thought) reached out and popped a bubble in front of her face as he passed by. 'And it's not that short either, really.'

'Well it's not about how many years you have. It's about what you do with them.'

'True. But then, someone could spend years popping bubbles, when they could've been building a colony, or researching a deadly disease.' Beverly added. 'There's the other side of that often overused philosophy.'

'Isn't time you enjoyed wasting not wasted at all?' Guinan asked.

Beverly chuckled. 'That depends on whether there's someone waiting for a cure for that disease,' Beverly blew away a bubble. 'There's relaxation and there's sloth. You can miss a lot by paying too much attention to the present and not focusing on the future.'

'It's about establishing a balance, true, but I wouldn't be the first person to call you slothful.' Guinan paused, observing the gathering bubbles on the countertop. Then she decided to press her luck. 'Heard from Wesley lately?'

Beverly let the silence hang for a moment. 'Am I that obvious?'

'Only to other parents.' Guinan said, the reflective surfaces of a hundred bubbles making it appear as if the barmaid had eyes in every corner of the room. All of them focussed on Beverly. 'There are only a few things more distracting than a room full of bubbles. Motherhood is one of them.'

Beverly gazed into her drink. 'I worry about him. Somehow it was easier when he was at the Academy. I… remember Medical School,' she said. 'All those hours of studying with no time for anything else… but at least when he was there I understood what he was going through. Not that anything like _this_ ever came up in the "how to deal with medical emergencies" textbooks…'

Guinan looked sceptically at the bar. 'This is an emergency?'

'No,' Beverly sighed. 'No, it's not... Oh, _alright_, so I'm projecting. I get the point. It's the job of a mother to worry about her children, right?'

Guinan gave another half smile. 'I have many children. I never considered it my job to worry about them.'

Beverly looked up, her confused expression distorted in the bubbles framing her face. 'Oh?'

'No. Love them, certainly. Care for them –when they let me– of course. Wipe their noses, dry their tears and sometimes even let them teach _me_ a thing or two. But _worry_?' she shook her head. 'That's a misconception. The worry is a side-effect. It's not a requirement, it's a consequence. If you're lucky, then you eventually reach a point where you have enough confidence in them to look forwards to their next visit, rather than just… anticipate never seeing them again. And you get over the fact that they no longer need you like they once did...'

Beverly sighed. 'I do have confidence in him,' she said. 'I know this is probably proud-parent-syndrome talking, but I'm _sure_ he can handle whatever the universe throws at him, it's just, well…' she took a sip of synthehol. 'You know, I once made a comment to someone, about how I didn't seem to be developing any of the calluses that doctors are supposed to grow over their emotions, to keep themselves from going crazy. He told me that maybe the good Doctors never get them.'

'I wonder who that might have been,' Guinan said, her smile changing from amused, to knowing. It was a moment the likes of which she rarely experienced with Doctor Crusher. In fact, she rarely shared them with anyone. Guinan tended to think of her emotions as uniquely her own, even while talking with Counsellor Troi, who knew what you were feeling almost before you knew yourself. Like the counsellor, Guinan tried to keep a healthy, psychological line drawn between herself and those she listened to. It was an instinct amongst her people to do so.

Still, when it came to Jean Luc Picard, the line had a tendency to blur.

'Do you think the same is true of mothers?' Beverly asked, breaking the train of Guinan's thoughts. 'Do we _ever_ get used to their growing up and going away?'

'No. Not entirely,' Guinan said. 'We give up a great deal for our children, often with little thanks returned.'

'Well that's not true,' Beverly said sternly. 'They give us all the thanks we need.'

'Really? How's that?'

'Well, with…' Beverly thought about it. Not for long, though. 'With… the hugs they give you. And the picture drawn in crayons, which you can't identify for the life of you, and yet still believe _unerringly_ is a pony... Or in Wesley's case, a warp coil. By smiling for photographs because they're happy and not because someone told them to "say cheese". By… teaching you things you learned when you were at school and then forgot. By going out into the world, having their kids… By hitchhiking across the boundaries of time and reality...'

Beverly trailed off, the look on Guinan's face telling her quite plainly (Guinan hoped) that the Listener's point was made.

'Well, that's motherhood.' Guinan said. 'But what is life if you don't stop worrying long enough to watch the stars, once in a while? Or the bubbles, as it may be.'

'I doubt Wesley has much time for that, wherever he is,' Beverly sighed. 'Unless you count Warp Bubbles.'

She fell silent, and for several seconds Guinan was quiet, too. 'Mind if I make a suggestion?' she said.

'Of course not.'

'You're off duty. Those who are on duty have the situation under control. Except maybe the Tribble the things you taught him to good use.' Guinan allowed a bubble to settle on the palm of her hand and quiver before popping. 'Enjoy that fact, Doctor Crusher. Life's too short, after all.'

Beverly allowed the words to sink in, and then smiled. 'You could have just told me that at the beginning.'

'And missed the discussion about motherhood?' Guinan asked, blinking. 'You know me better than that, Beverly.'

Beverly smiled.

* * *

Deanna was smiling.

Which in one sense wasn't all that surprising, and in another sense was the most surprising thing he'd seen all day. Here they were, about to greet a renowned Vulcan ambassador, in a ship that had bubbles drifting lazily about the bridge. She was probably sensing the amusement of people in the lower decks who didn't have more important things to worry about. There were occasions where Will Riker envied Deanna's empathic abilities.

'Well I… might have said one or two things to him in passing, sir,' Will continued answering the Captain's question. 'But I don't recall when _bubbles_ came into the equation.'

Deanna cast Will a sideward glance, her eyes shining. 'I suppose they could have been caused by anything, really.'

'Yes, but _in particular_ Data experimenting with humanity.' The captain muttered. 'And children.'

'True, sir, but that's hardly fair… It could have been one of the science officers, or the children we picked up from the colony at Rokah Two.'

Will said nothing, but a quirky smile continued to tug mercilessly at his cheeks. The captain too seemed uncertain whether or not this whole thing was comical or disastrous. Or both. He muttered something under his breath. If Will hadn't known better he would've sworn it was a curse. Probably in French.

'It's a shame Worf isn't here to see this, sir.' Will commented lightly. 'I bet the tournament isn't half as entertaining.'

'Number One, can we please input some seriousness into this discussion?'

'Yes, sir. Sorry. It's just a little difficult to be serious with... well,' he gestured at his surroundings. The captain sighed, raised a hand to his communicator as if to contact someone, then thought better of it and lowered his hand to straighten his tunic instead.

'There will be great need for seriousness if we end up greeting the Ambassador with soap suds glistening on the console panels. This is the Flagship of the Federation, not a travelling circus.'

'Of course, sir, but we have dealt with worse,' Will said.

...Though clearly, Ensign McCaffrey would've preferred a close encounter with the Romulans right now. Her face was turning an irritated shade of red, and she was squinting through half closed eyes. 'You alright, Ensign?'

The Ensign's voice was slightly hoarse as she spoke. 'Yes sir. Allergies, sir.'

'You should have that reaction treated, Ensign.' The captain said, blankly. 'It would hardly do for a member of our crew, which is supposed to be capable of dealing with any number of universal crises, to be put out by soap liquid.'

'Here here, sir,' a Lieutenant called from the tactical console. A faint hum seemed to run across the bridge that Will would've called a snigger, if he hadn't known better.

...Oh, alright, so he didn't actually know better. Will sighed and leaned back in his chair. 'Well to repeat the words of someone else in another place and time: if this were happening anywhere else, or to anyone else, it could be funny. And at least our Counsellor is smiling.'

Deanna gave him a half glance at hearing the words she had last spoken herself. 'Let's just say the last few hours have started to rub off on me.'

* * *

To say they had tried everything possible –and a few things that technically weren't– was an understatement. From taking the replicators offline, to activating the ventilation systems (which had, oddly, only resulted in bubbles appearing in larger quantities, much to the alarm of Lieutenant Barclay who had been in one of the vents at the time) to putting anti-moisturising compounds in the air management system (which did pretty much nothing bar leave everyone with dry throats). If anything there were now even more bubbles surrounding them than before.

And now they only had twenty minutes left. Less, if the Vulcan sense of timing was anything to go by.

Geordi resisted the urge to try that anti-stress technique Reg had taught him. He was the Chief Engineer of the _USS Enterprise_, flagship of the Federation. He had dealt with dodgy transporters, impossible warp core contaminations and mechanics that ripped through hyperspace as if it were tissue paper. He was a seasoned professional, damn it. He was _not_ going to be defeated by bubbles.

'There is still one option remaining, Geordi.' Data said.

'Oh and what's that?' Geordi asked, grateful for any suggestions. Trying to see engineering through the haze the bubbles were putting his VISOR through was staring to wear on his nerves.

'Disperse them naturally.'

Geordi blinked.

'Individual bubbles last only a matter of seconds in their present state,' Data explained, somewhat redundantly. 'It is likely that the combined efforts of the entire crew would resolve the situation long enough for us to address the Ambassador.'

'Yeah, but unless we can work out where they're coming from…'

'I do not believe that will be difficult,' Data said. 'Having eliminated all other possibilities, there now remain few probable causes. I will work on isolating the discrepancy, while the rest of engineering disperses the current influx.'

Geordi sighed. He was having a technical conversation with an android about a ship filled with bubbles. It quite simply could not get any weirder. This, for the _Enterprise_, was really saying something. 'Good old Holmes again, huh? "When you've eliminated the impossible..."'

'Not entirely, but the analogy is close enough.' Data turned around and began to calmly pop the bubbles on his way to the pool table (which took some finding amongst the soap suds.) Geordi heard an Ensign mutter about knowing that he should've chosen the night shift instead of this one, but Geordi chose to ignore him.

'At least the children enjoyed the activity,' Data said, and Geordi could've sworn that he was talking to himself.

'Hm. You know, Data, some humans say that the only difference between tragedy and comedy is whether it's happening to you or to somewhere else.'

Data looked at him. 'Then you believe someone outside of our current scenario would find this amusing?'

'That's exactly what I imagine,' Geordi said hopefully. Maybe the Vulcan representative was familiar with that concept and wouldn't be too disturbed by a greeting from a Federation Starship filled with bubbles. 'It is kinda funny. Hilarious, in fact. Somebody up there must be having a good laugh at us. Maybe the Ambassador will be one of them, you think?'

'I do not believe so,' Data said after a moment. 'Vulcans are not prone to the effects of humour.'

Bang went that bit of positive thinking.

'For someone capable of programming a replicator to churn out bubbles, Data, you sure know how to suck the fun out of things.' Geordi sighed. 'So, are you gonna call the captain and tell him about our amazing solution to his problem, or should I do it?'

In the end, Data did it. Geordi figured he'd deal with the repercussions better.

* * *

_'This is the First Officer reporting to all passengers and crewmen.' _

Beverly looked up at the sound of Will Riker's voice beaming across the communications channel. It was a force of habit many people had trouble getting out of –they would look around for the owner of the voice coming from their communicators. Beverly had grown used to it, but every now and then it still caught her by surprise.

'Oh dear,' she said, grinning at Guinan.

_'...No doubt everyone is aware of our situation. While it's not a serious problem, it's still causing a little disorder. We're working on correcting it and I apologise for any inconvenience.'_

'He sounds like one of those guides you get on tourist rides in San Francisco Bay,' Beverly frowned, sympathetically. 'Poor Will.'

'See, now you're getting the hang of it,' Guinan said. 'Let somebody else deal with the dilemmas while you're off duty.'

'In the meantime…' there was a moment of silence as the whole of Ten Forward waited for the First Officer to finish. Was it her imagination, Beverly thought, or did Will sound discomfited? 'I would suggest that if you're in a hurry to get on with things, then conventional popping, might help control the problem.'

Beverly blinked. As did the majority of people in the bar. 'Did he just say what I think he said?'

'I think he did,' Guinan said. 'Well, it's a good idea. Very intuitive.'

'…If I hear right, then he just told us to burst our own bubbles,' Beverly wasn't sure whether to laugh of not.

Guinan gave Beverly a wink. 'Well, what was I just saying? Care to help me out back here?'

* * *

'Geordi?'

'Yeah?' Geordi was annoyed enough to require another distraction. This meant that as irritated he was with Data at the moment, it could wait. There had been three "swaps around" in individual proprieties, as the engineers worked on different methods of dispersing the soap influx. None of them were having much luck. Except for the poppers, that was.

'I am curious. How does the current experience register on the VISOR's visual spectrum?'

Geordi looked up. 'Well, I can make out the temperature, and reflections on the bubbles surface.' He explained, trying to put words to the phenomenon. It had never been as easy to describe what he "saw" with the VISOR as he made it sound. 'And I can see some of the internal gases. But to be honest, they're easiest to see just at the instant they pop, when they disrupt the air most.'

'I see. Curious.'

'Actually, bubbles were one of the first things I saw,' Geordi added. 'They were running tests with the instalment for my first VISOR. When I stopped complaining about the headaches and panicking so much, they blew me some bubbles to see what I could pick up.'

'So they were amongst your first visual experiences?'

'Pretty much. Freaked me out something awful too, if I remember. But then, most things did back then. I wasn't used to seeing anything, much less something that appeared and disappeared the way they did. My perception was all skewed.' He looked at Data, suddenly getting the impression that this was about more than an experiment in the reactions of human children. 'Why do you ask?'

'Several reasons. Perhaps, in part, because they were also one of my own early experiences.'

'No kid?'

Data went back to absently popping the bubbles with what could almost be considered… enthusiasm. Or at least, more enthusiasm than he'd shown when it been on his turn at the controls. There were few people on board who noticed such delicate shifts of expression in their resident android. Geordi La Forge was one of those few.

There were a few moments of silence in which it dawned on Geordi that… Yeah, Data really _was_ showing more enthusiasm for bubble popping than he had shown at controls.

'…Data.' Geordi said, slowly.

'Yes?'

'You're enjoying that.'

Data absently popped another bubble while glancing in Geordi's direction. 'You must be mistaken, Geordi.' He popped another. 'That would require an emotional capacity which—'

'Which you do not possess,' Geordi finished the well worn statement. 'Yeah, Data, I know. Anyway, why were they showing you bubbles?'

'A study into the effects of human interaction and physical phenomenon. It was one of the few occasions when I interacted with humans besides the departmental scientists.'

'How come?'

'In my early days at the Institute, my contact with other humanoid life forms was generally slim. In fact, so was my experience with all life forms, in order to maintain an unbiased environment,' Data said.

'Like an experiment,' Geordi finished, feeling a slight drop in the pit of his stomach. 'They tried to keep out confounding variables that they thought could affect your development.'

Data nodded. 'In the early stages they attempted to gauge my reactions to certain phenomenon.'

'Like bubbles.'

Yes. You have come across these details in my records. We have discussed it before, have we not?'

Geordi shrugged. 'You told me about the institute, sure, but never much about the tests.'

Data nodded again. He hadn't forgotten. Data never forgot anything. 'At any rate these sensory-focussed experiments did not last long. I had little experience with them. Nor have I ever considered them from a child's perspective. I suppose this is because I had no childhood to speak of. There were many student interns and younger members of the facility present during my time there. They seemed interested in the tests.'

Geordi snorted under his breath, suddenly irritated. Instances where people were using another's problems (like Data's inability to understand social norms and nuances, for example) against them really got to him. Maybe that sentiment came with being blind: with any disability there were two things that were the most difficult to deal with: people wrapping you up in cotton wool (or in Data's case, gauze was probably more like it) and people sniggering behind your back. 'Yeah, I'll bet.'

Sometimes, Geordi wondered if humanity had evolved as much as it assumed.

Data paused; clearly analysing Geordi's chosen tone of voice. 'What is the root of your derision?'

'Nothing, Data. Just… kids will be kids, you know?'

Data paused again. 'It was the interns who insisted upon reducing my environmental constraints, though their claims were usually refused. Asides from their influence, little time was spent on frivolities.'

'Frivolities?' Geordi brushed at some bubbles. 'That's what they called your experimenting with human behaviour?'

'It was not an approach without merit,' Data added, apparently in the cyberneticists defence. 'There has never been a life form like myself. It was logical that they should not wish for my development to be influenced by external forces.'

'I guess that's true,' Geordi muttered, though he couldn't shake the feeling that Data was quoting someone else.

Okay. So what was worse here? The experimenters who tried to keep a sentient being in a whitewashed box, or the students who were _obviously_ poking fun at the artificial life form with no social skills?

...Weren't they? 'So, the cyberneticists were impatient,' Geordi translated. 'Wanted to get to –what cyberneticists would call– the "important stuff", right? The serious tests. No time for bubbles.' He felt another stab of annoyance at that. Data _wasn't_ a commodity. He wasn't created for the purpose of serving humans, so why should he be expected to advance at their predicted speeds in their perfectly chosen environments? Why should he only see other humans when it served a scientific purpose? 'How _did_ bubbles come into it?'

Data fell silent again. Though he knew he was probably imagining it, Geordi could have sworn the briefest flicker of amusement touched the android's voice as he responded: 'Jorate Grayton.'

'Grayton?' Geordi ran the name through his mind a few times. It didn't ring any bells.

'He was a Daystrom Institute Intern during his early teens, a scientific prodigy. Starfleet Academy graduate class of sixty-four, born on Mars Colony, finished seventh out of...' Data realised he was babbling and cut his explanation short. 'He currently serves as science administrator aboard the _USS Thunderchild_, though he was only sixteen when we met. It was he who showed me bubble formation by hand. I had difficult mastering the technique. Hand formed bubbles require a higher level of subtlety and skill than the automatic toys of the children.'

'…One of the interns did that?' Geordi kept his tone casual enough that Data wouldn't notice his confusion. He realised the slightly surreal nature this conversation was taking on. In fact, he had to smile. Looked like Data was wrong when he said he'd never approached bubbles from a child's perspective. 'So this Jorate showed you how to program a replicator to blow bubbles?' But not how to make them stop.

'He was… "In on it". Many of the interns at the Institute did not agree with the nature of my study. They actually went to great lengths to remove me from the building several times. Clandestinely, of course,' Data added.

Geordi looked up. 'They tried to sneak you out? And take you where?'

'To many locations. Though Jorates and Elena Burton seemed particularly fond of a location called _Base Thirteen_, on the San Francisco waterfront.'

Though Geordi a Forge was incapable of seeing, he still found blinking in surprise to be as much an instinct for him as for the next person. '...They took you to Base Thirteen Bar? _The_ Base Thirteen?' Also known as the favourite party location for teenagers and academy cadets on leave. Geordi had been there a couple of times in his final year. The VISOR had had quite a field day.

'Yes. Jorate claimed that I… "_Could do with the frivolity and to Saturn with your progress report"_.'

'…And that would constitute as messing with a closely monitored scientific experiment,' Geordi whistled. 'They could've lost their internships, if they'd been found out.'

'They were "found out" on two occasions' Data agreed. 'Several of the older students lost their credits for the year they were discovered. Jorate was fortunate. He was amongst the younger interns and was therefore only summarily cautioned.'

'But they still kept taking the risk?' Geordi asked. It looked as if he'd gotten those kids all wrong. They hadn't been taking the mickey after all. In fact, it sounded like they were the only people who had treated Data like...

Well... like the kid he was back then, Geordi supposed.

'The majority of them did, with more caution. Eventually their point was made. The environmental constraints were released two years later, at which point I was permitted to apply to Starfleet Academy.'

_Good job, too,_ Geordi thought. Maybe it was an over-reaction, but he couldn't help remembering those old horror stories from his Earth History class, about people and animals deliberately raised in non-emotionally-stimulating environments. Denied warmth, love and even the most basic forms of non-essential contact. He'd seen the effects it'd had on children before the nuclear age. The derangement and paranoia brought on in otherwise normal people by that kind of deprivation made his blood run cold. But it had been over two hundred years since such experiments were permitted on living beings.

...Maybe Data hadn't counted as a living being.

Was warmth important to Data, though? Geordi was pretty sure it was, even if he wasn't sure how. And if that was so, and emotion could affect Data's development as it did any human child… What other effects could be wrought on an artificial life form by his environment? What else did Data have the capacity to become?

_Something that could snuff out other stuff as easily as he pops those bubbles._ A part of Geordi's brain which very rarely saw the light of day responded. Geordi instantly told that part of his mind to shut up and get back to work. It was a crazy thought, after all. Most of those nineteenth century human guinea-pigs hadn't come with a pre-programmed respect for all life. And Data didn't have emotions in which to harbour a deranged sense of reality… But then the stuff Geordi had read –not that he was big on social psychology– had suggested that a lack of emotion had been one of the primary symptoms of psychosis...

'…I don't blame them. Still, are you glad they did it? I mean, are you glad they… broke the rules for you?'

It was an indirect question and Data considered it for a moment, popping bubbles as he tried to work out a response without an emotional context. '…Yes. I was grateful that they wished to associate with me, though I did not wish their reputations to be harmed as a result. In a way, it was because of these adolescents that I began searching for my own humanity.'

Geordi smiled. 'Guess I was wrong about those kids…'

Data, for once, didn't ask what Geordi was talking about. (Maybe he'd already guessed.) He merely reached out and popped a bubble that was floating right in front of Geordi's face.

* * *

Captain Picard had to admit, he was starting to wish this were a Code Red Alert. A Code Red Alert would have been a perfect explanation for their situation. A problem with warp drive; an unexpected accident; a security breach... any and all of those things would have been significant reason to delay their meeting with the ambassador by a few minutes in order to get the problem sorted.

Captain Picard did not, however, think the ambassador would accept _"Must Postpone. Re. Bubbles on Bridge"_ as a good enough motivation for delaying diplomatic meet of great importance.

By this point Ensign McCaffey had been sent to sickbay with a face resembling a strawberry gone horribly wrong. She had been replaced by another ensign who had a fondness for bubbles and was intermittently popping them even as he tapped away at the controls. 'The Ambassador's ship is coming within audio range, Captain; do you wish to relay a greeting?'

'Already?' Will muttered, casting a glimpse at Deanna. 'That was quick. Vulcan efficiency knows no bounds.'

'Merde,' Picard cast a quick look around the still rather bubble-infested bridge and tapped on his comm. badge. 'Picard to La Forge. I would appreciate hearing that you have this sorted out.'

The pause between his comment and Geordi's response was longer than the captain would've liked. _'Yes sir, we think we've tracked the problem to a replicator with dodgy installation. The diagnostics didn't pick up on it for some reason, but we should be able to get it stopped.'_

'Excellent, Geordi, how long do you need?

_'Um... well we've taken the replicators offline for now, until we can repair the problem. The current bubbles should disappear as... quickly as you can pop them, sir.'_

'...Is Lieutenant Commander Data with you?'

_'I am here, sir.'_

'Good,' Picard tried his utmost not to snap. 'Am I right in assuming you had something to do with this, Data?'

_'...Technically that is true, sir, though it was not intentional.'_ Data responded. Picard caught a glimpse of Will Riker out of the corner of one eye; giving Deanna a look which even to a non-empath quite clearly stated: "I told you so". _'It is, as they say "a long story" captain. Perhaps we might discuss it after the meeting with the ambassador has been concluded.'_

...Stalling. Hm. Who had decided that Data didn't possess any human nuances again?

'Very well. Continue your work. And Lieutenant Commander? The next time you feel a desire to experiment with human social and environmental stimulus, please ensure you are in a holodeck.'

_'...Yes Captain. Sorry sir.'_

Thwe captain sighed before turning back to his command chair and...

'...Number One what are you doing?'

'Ah... popping, sir. We _are_ short on time I thought I'd... help out.'

Picard had been about to comment on this when he was interrupted by Ensign McCaffey's replacement. 'Captain? The... Ambassador's ship is hailing us, sir. Visual.'

Will coughed. Picard noted his first officer swallowing and his counsellor throwing up her hands, seemingly resigned to the inevitable. So much for professionalism. 'Well is the entire crew just going to _sit_ here?' Picard asked, bluntly. 'Start... disposing of these things immediately. Ensign, open a channel.'

Captain Picard sighed another long suffering sigh as the ensign complied with his request and the majority of the other crewmembers began nervously popping whatever bubbles happened to fly close to their console. The captain brushed away a few that were settling around his command chair. One of which _would_ insist upon bursting directly in front of his eye.

* * *

The ambassador's instincts concerning diplomatic missions had been well primed for decades. Since serving under Captain Kirk over eighty earth years ago, he had known that he needed to respect the virtues that came with listening to his gut instincts, as well as those born from logic.

Therefore, he knew that something was not quite right aboard the _Enterprise-D_ (it is perhaps an illogical sentiment, but the ambassador finds that he will always think of her as the "D"), even before the visual channel is opened.

Before him stood a man with the distinct air of a captain who had not been expecting company... And quite possibly one who had some kind of uncomfortable substance in his eye.

But surely, this is not rational. Captain Picard was not a man known for tardiness or dishonesty. Nor was he a man possessed of the same barely restrained whims as certain _other_ Captains of the _Enterprise_.

Or perhaps, the presence of this ship was merely calling upon old memories. The ambassador would never accuse himself of being a whimsical being, but his memories of the _Enterprise_ and those who served aboard her certainly had their influence.

'Ambassador Spock. Greetings from the _Enterprise_.'

'Peace and long life, Captain.' The ambassador paused, mulling his thoughts for a second before choosing to voice them. 'I trust everything is alright on board?'

It took a man with decades of experience in reading others' reactions to recognize the minute shuffle that passed across Captain Picard's shoulders. To the rest of his crew –in fact, to most people in general– the Captain no doubt appeared as solid and composed as a statue.

'Certainly, ambassador. Though we appear to have been experiencing a few minor problems with our systems, it should not interfere with this correspondence.'

A single liquid bubble drifted past Captain Picard's face, directly in Ambassador Spock's field of vision.

Interesting.

Quite suddenly, the ambassador wondered whether he had ever imparted to Captain Picard the story concerning the original _Enterprise_ and the Tribbles... Either way, it seemed he would have yet another story to impart when he returned to Romulus.

* * *

Seven hours thirteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds after the conclusion of their meeting with the Ambassador (and only four hours thirty-two minutes since the successful repairing of the replicators) Data wondered whether the event now constituted as one of those scenarios that they were able to "look back on and laugh". Over drinks in Ten Forwards, appropriately enough.

Everyone was certainly laughing. This was also, Data noted, the first time in a long while that almost the entire of the bridge crew had been present at the same time in the same location, for anything other than a ship-wide crisis.

Together, and laughing. Loudly.

'It was crazy. They were everywhere!' Will grinned. 'The first one popped right in front of me and for a second I thought they were coming through the view screen, I nearly ordered a yellow alert! For bubbles!'

'I know,' Beverly smiled. 'We had them down here, too. And then you came over the comm. system telling us we had to burst them _ourselves_...'

'And in Engineering,' Geordi grinned. '_Everywhere_ in Engineering. They were coming out of every doorway, every hatch and every unlocked panel in the ship. Everything! Except, that is, the replicators which they were _supposed_ to be coming out of.'

Will Riker continued grinning. 'Can't wait until Worf gets back; I bet that Tournament had absolutely nothing on what we were dealing with here.'

'I'm sure Alexander has already given him a total update,' Deanna smiled.

Geordi hissed through his teeth. 'Worf might not be pleased, actually. You should probably avoid him, Data. When he comes back to find that his rigorous security systems were breached by nothing more than humble soap liquid...'

'You believe he will be annoyed?' Data asked. He had already had his fair share of annoyance from Captain Picard. He wasn't sure he needed to experience more. But Geordi thumped him on the shoulder and sniggered.

'I'm just _kidding,_ Data.'

'I expect the Ambassador is used to the bizarre happening,' Troi said as she received a drink from Guinan, who continued smiling and doing that which she did best. 'I guess it's true what they say about these things being funny afterwards.'

'Being a Vulcan I doubt the phenomenon would have generated such an emotional response,' Data said.

Beverly smiled. 'Still, something to wonder about isn't it? We could've been the first ship in the fleet to gain a reputation as a sud-bucket.'

Data ran a quick database check. 'Would Vulcans be familiar with that expression?'

'I hope not.' Geordi sniggered. 'Data, you need to put me in contact with this Jorates guy, I need to buy him a drink. _Or_ thwap him about the head. Or both.'

'In contact with who?' Deanna asked.

'Ah... Yeah, I'm gonna let Data explain that one. Let's just say the last two days have been almost entirely the fault of someone called Jorates Grayton and a bunch of Daystrom pre-graduates who didn't listen to their superiors. And took an android drinking.'

There was a moment of silence around the table. Data had come to acquaint such silences with trouble, and found himself tensing automatically, only to be surprised when Will started sniggering –and the rest of the table joined in. Data was, by this point, hopelessly confused. But such was often the case where issues of humanity and humour were involved.

'Nice to see everyone is having a goodtime in light of our near disaster this afternoon.' They were minorly surprised to see their interrupter, since the captain in Ten Forward during a rush hour was quite an event. 'I hope I'm not intruding.'

'Of course not, sir, we were just discussing the fine points of today's mission.'

The captain smiled a rare, but undoubtedly genuine smile that many didn't have the benefit of seeing often enough. 'And trying to work out what you'll tell Worf when he gets back to find his security systems were breached by soap?'

'That too, sir.' Riker raised a glass in a mock "cheers". 'Chair?'

Geordi smiled, and for a moment, he and Data allowed the conversation amongst the rest of the bridge crew to continue without the two of them. Data decided to experiment with social small talk. 'It has been... quite a day, has it not?'

'No kidding. Now _this_ is something to go down in the history books for. Never mind all this saving-the-galaxy-on-a-regular-basis nonsense,' Geordi chuckled. 'There's something else you owe this Grayton for.'

Data paused. 'To what are you referring?'

Geordi smiled faintly. 'Data, you had the entire bridge crew in hysterics. You made us _laugh_. Finally, one of your jokes had some kind of success.'

Data paused for a second mulling this fact over, and then brightened. 'I had not considered that.'

'Success comes in strange ways and from strange directions, Data. So then.' He raised a class. 'To Jorate Grayton and his replicating bubbles.'

Two glasses clinked together.

They were unaware of the visitor to their table, complete with a Data pad that looked as if it contained official bridge Crew business, until Deanna opened her mouth and started talking about it. 'Ah... I was expecting this.'

'What is it, Deanna?'

'It's a message,' Deanna looked up. 'From Worf.'

Geordi could've sworn that Data stiffened noticeably in the chair. For someone without emotions the guy did a damn good impression of nerves. '...Is he displeased?'

'Doesn't say,' Deanna said, turning the padd around and grinning as Geordi read the message aloud.

'"_**Please check that the security field system has not been affected. **_

_**It could have been worse. It could have been the holodeck. Again**_."'

It took the entire bridge compliment several moments to realise that Worf had just made a joke.

Even Data felt slightly bemused for the rest of the evening.

* * *

**NB: Imagine my joy to discover that there really was a **_**USS Thunderchild**_** in the Star Trek universe, (Akira class, registry number NCC-63549) and I was no longer pulling the name out of my ass just because I wanted to make an amusing literary shout out.  
...This doesn't say many hopeful things about the Starship in question's fate, of course, but oh well...**


End file.
